And It's Hard To Compete When They're Smiling With Your Heart In Their Teeth.
I pretty much wrote this story because I wanted to make a whole lotta references to TOS and L.A. Graf's novel, Death Count (which wins everything ever for all the BFFness between Uhura, Chekov, and Sulu) and generally write Kirk and McCoy snarking at each other. Because it is my intention to win some sort of internet Geekiest Fangirl EVER award, or just to make people shake their heads at me in general. I just wish I were half as funny as I think I am.
Graciously looked over by superjoydrop and dedicated to her for being one of the best people I know and for giving me the Fantasy Planet idea. ♥♥♥ Chekov in general is for charliehey because a) she loves him a lot, and b) I seem to be able to talk her into writing stories about him, so I kind of owe her this one. And Scotty in a kilt is for anyone who loves that man as much as I do.
Creeping Up The Backstairs
Kirk isn't sure there's anything worse than Starfleet efficiency auditors. Sure there are Romulans and Tribbles and diplomatic missions where everyone declares open season on him and Spock listing all the ways he's illogical and human every time he opens his mouth, but still, none of these things are a bunch of bureaucratic pencil pushers who walk around his ship, examining every miniscule aspect of the day-to-day duties and the crew, and tell him what's been done wrong. The Auditor General had, in particular, rubbed Kirk the wrong way from the moment he'd stepped onto the ship when he'd greeted Kirk without his title, just a sharp "Kirk" as if the title was of no importance, as if he was of no importance, and every comment he'd made after that had just set Kirk's teeth on edge.
The rest of the crew did no better, unsurprisingly, as being judged on your performance by a group of people who had the power to shut down your department or recommend your termination if your efficiency levels were less than stellar did not lead to happy, efficient crewmembers. It had been two weeks of hell for the crew, especially Kirk who had to hear constant complaints about the auditors interfering with the daily operations of the ship to perform stress tests and ask inane questions that could be answered with a little common sense or a look at the engineering manuals. There had been a strange mix of tension and boredom running through the ship, and when the auditors had finally departed with a somewhat favorable review of the Enterprise, Kirk had sighed with relief and ordered a two-day shore leave on the nearest planet, which turned out to be Altair 4.
The thing about Altair 4 is that it's got great bars and restaurants. It's essentially a tourist planet with a steady flow of cruise ships coming in every day filled with various species who want to visit its lush, unspoiled beauty, ancient ruins, and high-priced, artfully designed entertainment establishments. Most of the crew can't afford to indulge in any of the really high quality places, like the gambling dens, but the bars and the little curiosity shops are enough to satisfy most of them. Uhura and Spock decide to do a little shopping because Uhura loves bargaining and Spock loves watching her in action, even if none of it is very logical, Chekov accompanies Sulu on his quest to find the rare Japanese water lily, which is rumored to be sold on this planet, Scotty's off to the market to find the perfect something to eat, and Kirk and McCoy decide to go to a bar.
It's tough to find a sleazy-looking bar on Altair 4 since everything is so elegantly designed and built, so Kirk settles for some club with neon lights and thumping, deafening music that you hear before you even enter the club. Everyone around them is dressed in spangles and sparkles, the music is monotonous and loud, there are too many people taking up what little space there is in this short, squat building, and McCoy starts complaining about everything before they can even find a table. It's probably not going to be the best night ever, Jim thinks as he orders a beer and McCoy orders a scotch, but he's not making his way through the crowds again and wandering around for another half-hour just to find another place that won't drive McCoy crazy.
Such a place doesn't exist, he's learned this after four years of being friends with the man. The best he can do is not order some ridiculously fruity drink that will get McCoy ranting about how "those goddamn banana frou-frou drinks don't count as real booze, Jim," so beer it is.
He catches sight of a few of his crewmembers in the crowd, dressed in their civvies and laughing like the party's already started, and he makes a mental note to keep an eye on them in case they become incapacitated later on and need help. It's his job as captain to look after his crew, and he wasn't really planning on getting drunk anyway, so it shouldn't be a problem. To his right, he sees Chekov, Uhura, and Sulu sitting together at a table, drinks half-empty while Sulu makes expansive gestures that have all of them giggling into their drinks. If he listens closely, he can hear their conversation, but he tunes them out in favor of listening to McCoy make snide but funny remarks about all the diseases the crewmembers are going to pick up if they go home with that Altairean or Tellerite or Orion.
"You're such a cranky old man," Kirk tells him in an amused tone of voice, sipping his beer to stop himself from laughing at the disgruntled look on McCoy's face.
"Shut up, infant," McCoy retorts, his hand clenched around his glass like it's going to save him from the crush of people around him, like the glass has a button that McCoy's pressing as hard as he can and it's going to open up a door where he can escape the maddening crowd and his incipient claustrophobia.
Kirk claps his hand on McCoy's nearest shoulder, squeezing lightly to try and ground the man, and maybe to prevent him from making a panicked run back to the ship. "Just relax, Bones. God, you're so tense all the time."
McCoy makes a face. "You'd be tense too you knew just how dangerous the world around you can be."
Kirk groans and resists the urge to slam his face into the bar top. "You're not going to start listing off all the ways we can die if a micro-something does a whatsit on my eyeballs, are you? Because I lived through that speech once already." He levels a glare at McCoy. "And then you threw up on me."
"Good times," McCoy drawls after taking a healthy sip from his glass. "But seriously, Jim, you have no idea. You just run around and let people shoot at you--"
"Let people shoot at me?" Jim asks incredulously.
"--and jump off space drills--"
"--I was there on Pike's order," he says, outraged.
"--and get into stupid bar fights over nothing--"
"Okay, first," and Jim starts counting them off on his fingers, an earnest expression on his face, "I haven't been in a bar fight in months. Second, they're not stupid. Third, and this is important," he says with a sour look in McCoy's direction, "bar fights are never over nothing, all right? They're always over something, even when it seems like they're over nothing."
McCoy snorts into his drink. "Enlighten me, master."
"Girls," Kirk says with mock patience. "Honor, dignity--"
"Not that you ever had any."
"I don't know why I put up with you," Kirk sighs, shoving at McCoy with a wounded air.
"I don't know why I put up with you," McCoy growls. "Between all the away missions that end in phaser burns or kidnappings or enforced marriages, Scotty's transporter mishaps, Spock in general, and all the other insane crap you pull, my medical log is getting weirder and weirder."
Kirk perks up at that. "Yeah?"
McCoy mimes turning on the log recorder. "Dear diary," he says in a falsetto, which makes Kirk snicker, "today I found out that thanks to some ancient alien stone, my captain is now inside a crazy woman's body and Spock almost ripped my head off because of some ancient Vulcan mating ritual that has never been talked about or written about anywhere and may eventually kill him. It was the best day ever!"
Kirk giggles helplessly into his mug, unable to even think about taking a sip because he knows he'll choke on the liquid. "That's so ridiculous, Bones," he finally says when he's gotten a hold of himself.
"Which part?"
"The part where I swap bodies with a woman because of an ancient alien stone." Kirk shakes his head with confidence. "Never gonna happen. It's too crazy."
McCoy sighs. "I don't know if you've realized this, Jim, but all we do on that rust bucket you call a ship is deal with crazy."
"We do not," Kirk says emphatically. "And don't insult my ship. My baby is not a rust bucket," he adds with a scowl.
"Oh, God, you can't be serious."
Kirk grins. "She's sensitive."
McCoy groans again, resting his face in the palm of his hands like if it's going to hide him from Kirk. "If I catch you humping the ship, I'm going to inject you with something that'll give you a limp dick for life," he warns, although his threats seem less credible when they're muffled by his hands and his embarrassment.
Kirk pats his shoulder with a reassuring smile. "No worries, Bones. You won't catch me."
McCoy makes more 'are you fucking kidding me?' noises, but by then, Scotty's stepped into the bar wearing a full kilt and a smile, and Kirk is too busy being torn over whether to laugh or applaud the man for being brave enough to wear it the traditional way (Kirk knows Scotty, he'd wear it properly, which means that Kirk might know what Scotty's genitals look like by the end of the night, quite against his will). He settles for just goggling as Scotty makes his way to the bar and asks for a shot of their finest whiskey.
McCoy takes one look at Scotty and bursts into helpless laughter, rocking forward when Scotty leans in and wraps his arm around McCoy's shoulders with a mock scowl and a growled "Shut it, you bastard." He seems pleased, not pissed, at McCoy's reaction, and Kirk decides it's okay to grin at his Chief Engineer.
"Nice kilt," he says appreciatively, because it really is, and Kirk wonders when he managed to get it on board considering that the last year has been a whirlwind of meetings, mourning, more meetings, and ship repairs before they'd finally launched on their first mission.
"It's been in the family for years," Scotty grins. "Decided to wear it tonight in honor of us being deemed worthy of being in space." He raises his glass to Kirk and salutes
Kirk rolls his eyes at the thought of all the auditor meetings he'd had to sit through just to be able to keep his ship in space. "I'll drink to that." He raises his mug and tips it against Scotty's glass. "So did you find the perfect something to eat?"
Scotty lets out an annoyed "bah" like the planet's personally offended him. "They've got nothing worth eating on this rock," he declares. "I came in here hoping for a bit of bubble-and-squeak."
McCoy looks aghast at the very thought of it. "What the hell is that?"
"A delicacy."
"It sounds like boiled mice," McCoy says disgustedly. "Why can't you Scots eat like normal people?"
Scotty thinks about it for a minute and then shrugs. "Except for haggis, it's really not that bad. I mean, it's not like we're eating rocks and oil like the Hortas, right?"
"Haggis?" Kirk reminds him.
"It's not rocks," Scotty argues, his hands making vigorous motions.
Kirk laughs and holds up his hands in a conciliatory gesture. "Fine, fine, haggis is aces, it's better than rocks. So, is the ship okay?" he asks after he takes a pull of his beer.
Scotty waves him off. "She's fine, Captain. Checked her out myself, from her hull to her ample nacelles." He waggles his eyebrows in innuendo, and McCoy makes grumbling noises about how it's no wonder they both get along so well since they have the same obsession and where the hell's that hypo he'd had on him?
"You had better not be talking about what I think you're talking about, Mr. Scott," a sharp, amused voice comes from somewhere behind Scotty's shoulder.
Scotty yelps a little and swings around, and Kirk sees Uhura slide in the space between them, leaning over the bar to get the bartender's attention before she turns her gaze back to Scotty.
"I meant the ship!" he says indignantly, doing his level best to look innocent, which doesn't quite work with the kilt and his default expression of mischief. Uhura makes a non-committal sound, making Scotty sputter some more, and she smiles to herself as she orders drinks for her table.
Kirk leans forward and uses his best smile on her, which she completely ignores. "And how are you this evening, Nyota?" It's been at least a year, and he still can't keep the glee out of his voice when he uses her first name. Not that he does it often because she always looks at him like she knows where to hit to make it hurt, and Kirk knows better than to antagonize her, but he does bring it up occasionally because she never actually asks him to stop using her name; she just glares at him when he does. It's a tacit agreement between them, he's decided, forged in the heat of battle and in the bonds of camaraderie... of some sort.
"I am fine, Captain," she says pleasantly enough, and her 'Captain' doesn't even sound like 'dumbass' this time, which means that she's in a good mood.
"Do any fun things today?"
She looks at him like she's trying to gauge whether he's messing with her or being genuine, and nods when she decides he's genuinely interested in finding out the answer. "I went shopping with Spock in the morning and then spent the afternoon helping Sulu buy lizards while Chekov complained the whole time."
"Not the whole time," Chekov retorts from behind her, and she and Kirk smile at each other as she steps aside to let Sulu and Chekov into their little circle. "Only when we were in the lizard shop."
"And the pastry shop," Sulu deadpans, grabbing the tall glass of amber liquid the bartender places in front of him while Uhura hands over her ID for the drinks. "And the botanical gardens. And the--"
Chekov scowls. "Okay, fine, most of the time then." His face is still scrunched up in annoyance when Sulu laughs and hands him his drink, both of them clinking glasses together in a salute before knocking them back.
Conversation devolves into a pleasant murmur between all of them for a while, each of them telling the others stories about what they did and what they saw and how crazy is it that they're actually on a real exploring mission now? It isn't until Kirk sees Chekov leaning into Bones' personal space, a dazzled look and a quiet, shy smile on his face, that he realizes Chekov is possibly flirting with McCoy. Chekov is possibly flirting with his best friend. He's almost certain that violates some kind of Starfleet rule or at least the bro code that says everyone hits on the captain first.
He looks over at Uhura, sees her smiling fondly at Chekov, and quietly makes 'look over here' gestures at her until she turns to face him. He glares at her like she's personally responsible for Chekov flirting with Bones (his best friend who is a hundred years older than Chekov, his mind screams, except that it's closer to thirteen and he should stop exaggerating for dramatic effect, and he hates how his inner voice now sounds like Spock), and she shrugs as if to ask what the big deal is. He doesn't need to yell "What do you mean what's the big deal?!" at her because he knows she can read it in his face, so when she shrugs again, Kirk makes a kind of strangled noise that tries to be "He is too young" and "I don't want him to get hurt" and "Bones will hypo him into a coma if he tries anything" all at once.
Uhura doesn't quite laugh, but her mouth twitches into a half-smile like she knows Kirk is being ridiculous and it amuses her, and finally nods. Kirk sighs with relief as she gently, deftly steers Chekov away from McCoy and gets Sulu and Scotty to take him back to their table. Before she follows them, she leans into Kirk's personal space and murmurs, "Just for the record, he has a serious case of hero-worship." She smiles wickedly, and Kirk has a brief moment of jealousy that Spock gets to go home to that smile every night. "He was not flirting with your boyfriend."
Of course her voice rises on "boyfriend" and McCoy's head pops up as he realizes that they're talking about him. "Boyfriend what?" he asks sharply, frowning after her as she laughs and heads back to her table. The only reason Kirk doesn't watch her and her knee-high boots walk back to her seat is because McCoy's right in front of him with the usual aggravated look on his face. "What was that about?" he asks irritatedly, sounding like it's not the first time he's asked that question.
Kirk clears his throat, feeling a little embarrassed that he'd overreacted to such a degree. "Um." He distantly wishes he had a collar that he could fiddle with; it'd at least give him something to do with his hands. "I thought that Chekov was flirting with you?" he answers as meekly as he possibly can.
McCoy's face is a study in astonishment and confusion. "He's seventeen," he says emphatically, as if that explains everything.
Kirk turns up his hands in a 'what are you gonna do' gesture that does nothing to put McCoy at ease. "Well, you are an attractive man, Bones."
McCoy blinks at that. "I haven't drunk enough," he says finally, sounding like he'd been punched one too many times. "Or maybe I drank too much. I forget which one it is I need to do to function properly around you."
"I'm just saying," Kirk argues, his hands moving in expansive gestures with each word. "You've got that whole rugged masculine thing going for you and you're a doctor and you're competent, which some people find hot, and..." He trails off when he sees McCoy stare at him like he's got a third eye growing out of his forehead. "I can see the appeal, is all," he mutters under his breath, downing the rest of his beer in big gulps before his stupid, traitorous mouth can get him into more trouble.
He almost winces at the painfully earnest, gentle look on McCoy's face. "Oh, God," he groans because he knows what's coming.
"Jim," McCoy says softly, like Kirk's fragile and delicate and God, make it stop already. "I don't want you take this the wrong way--"
"Where's Spock to nerve-pinch you when he's needed?" Kirk moans and puts his face in his hands and tries to pretend that he's not here.
"--I just don't think it's a good idea for us to add a sexual element to our relationship--"
"Stop," Kirk pleads because no one should ever sound like Spock when talking about sex in relation to him. "I swear I won't ever jump off of space drills ever again."
"--I don't want to ruin our friendship--"
"I won't get kidnapped or go on dangerous away missions or let super-smart computers on board in case they attempt to kill all the humans and take over the ship--"
"--you're important to me--"
"Please," he begs in earnest, not daring to clap his hand over McCoy's mouth only because he knows Bones will bite down if he does.
McCoy's smile is all teeth and amusement. "Next time, let me handle my own affairs when it comes to teenage engineering geniuses and their possible man-crushes, all right?"
Kirk scowls as he realizes that McCoy was fucking with him. "Dick."
"A rugged, manly one," McCoy chuckles.
Kirk's head sinks down against his chest. "You're never going to let me forget this, are you?"
McCoy looks relaxed for the first time since they got into this nightmare of a club. "Nuh-uh, Jim-boy. I'm going to remind you of this moment for the rest of your life. And," he adds after a moment's thought, "the fantasy planet thing. I'm going to keep bringing that up a lot too."
Kirk's brow furrows in despair. "I can't believe your fantasy was to lounge around in the sun drinking a mint julep while I had to play cabana boy," he grumbles, still outraged over the memory of him in a pair of short shorts, a palm frond, and nothing else.
"You're just mad that Uhura took pictures on the holo-recorder," McCoy hoots with laughter, and Kirk just makes a face at him because he can't argue against that when it's true.
They have a few moments of peaceful silence when the music stops for a brief announcement about someone's freighter being involved in a parking violation and then the din starts up again, making McCoy sigh and Kirk's head throb in pain. Kirk's ready to call it a night and McCoy's been ready to leave since before they got here, so they settle their bar bills and start to leave by silent, mutual accord. Even the pretty Venusian woman who sidles up to McCoy and offers to buy him a drink doesn't slow him down. He just declines with a polite smile and a courteous manner and is up and by Jim's side before she even realizes that he's said no.
"Could've had a good night, Bones." Kirk turns back to get a better look at her and makes a soft, longing noise when he takes in the sight of her all over again. "A really good night," he sighs.
McCoy makes a 'go for it' gesture. "She's all yours."
Kirk shakes his head. "Nah, I'm not in the mood. I'd rather go back to my ship."
"Yours is a love that no one understands," McCoy says blandly, but Kirk can hear the mocking, affectionate tone underneath it. "Least of all me."
Grinning, Kirk slings an arm around McCoy's shoulder and keeps it there as they walk out of the club and make their way back to the Enterprise. "What would I do without you, Bones?"
"Die in a fire?"
"Rhetorical question, asshole," Kirk says huffily, even though it's entirely possible that it would happen just like that. The whole universe is against him, he'd swear to it.
McCoy's got his arm around Kirk's waist like he's anchoring him in case Kirk decides to fight, and lose to, gravity this time. "Uh-huh. Jim, you know I'm not having sex with you, right?"
"I'll try to make it though this cold, cruel world somehow," Kirk says scathingly, making McCoy shake with laughter.
"Just checking," he tells Kirk.
"Did you at least have fun tonight?" Kirk asks plaintively. He'd hate to think he went through all this humiliation and Bones didn't enjoy any of it.
McCoy's smile is all in his eyes and it lights him up like Christmas. "Sweetheart, I was just there to get drunk." He squeezes Kirk affectionately. "The fun part comes when we're back on the ship and I get to hypo you so you don't have a massive hangover tomorrow."
Kirk winces in advance for the pain he knows is going to come. "You're all heart, McCoy."
McCoy's laugh is swallowed up the busy streets, but Kirk can still hear his response ringing in his ears. "And don't you forget it, Jim-boy."
So yesterday, I woke up late, I napped for an hour in the afternoon, and then I went to bed at 9:30 p.m. because I am apparently a little old lady now. That being said, damn, I feel so much better after getting about ten hours of uninterrupted sleep. I'm almost cheerful today!
Graciously looked over by superjoydrop and dedicated to her for being one of the best people I know and for giving me the Fantasy Planet idea. ♥♥♥ Chekov in general is for charliehey because a) she loves him a lot, and b) I seem to be able to talk her into writing stories about him, so I kind of owe her this one. And Scotty in a kilt is for anyone who loves that man as much as I do.
Creeping Up The Backstairs
Kirk isn't sure there's anything worse than Starfleet efficiency auditors. Sure there are Romulans and Tribbles and diplomatic missions where everyone declares open season on him and Spock listing all the ways he's illogical and human every time he opens his mouth, but still, none of these things are a bunch of bureaucratic pencil pushers who walk around his ship, examining every miniscule aspect of the day-to-day duties and the crew, and tell him what's been done wrong. The Auditor General had, in particular, rubbed Kirk the wrong way from the moment he'd stepped onto the ship when he'd greeted Kirk without his title, just a sharp "Kirk" as if the title was of no importance, as if he was of no importance, and every comment he'd made after that had just set Kirk's teeth on edge.
The rest of the crew did no better, unsurprisingly, as being judged on your performance by a group of people who had the power to shut down your department or recommend your termination if your efficiency levels were less than stellar did not lead to happy, efficient crewmembers. It had been two weeks of hell for the crew, especially Kirk who had to hear constant complaints about the auditors interfering with the daily operations of the ship to perform stress tests and ask inane questions that could be answered with a little common sense or a look at the engineering manuals. There had been a strange mix of tension and boredom running through the ship, and when the auditors had finally departed with a somewhat favorable review of the Enterprise, Kirk had sighed with relief and ordered a two-day shore leave on the nearest planet, which turned out to be Altair 4.
The thing about Altair 4 is that it's got great bars and restaurants. It's essentially a tourist planet with a steady flow of cruise ships coming in every day filled with various species who want to visit its lush, unspoiled beauty, ancient ruins, and high-priced, artfully designed entertainment establishments. Most of the crew can't afford to indulge in any of the really high quality places, like the gambling dens, but the bars and the little curiosity shops are enough to satisfy most of them. Uhura and Spock decide to do a little shopping because Uhura loves bargaining and Spock loves watching her in action, even if none of it is very logical, Chekov accompanies Sulu on his quest to find the rare Japanese water lily, which is rumored to be sold on this planet, Scotty's off to the market to find the perfect something to eat, and Kirk and McCoy decide to go to a bar.
It's tough to find a sleazy-looking bar on Altair 4 since everything is so elegantly designed and built, so Kirk settles for some club with neon lights and thumping, deafening music that you hear before you even enter the club. Everyone around them is dressed in spangles and sparkles, the music is monotonous and loud, there are too many people taking up what little space there is in this short, squat building, and McCoy starts complaining about everything before they can even find a table. It's probably not going to be the best night ever, Jim thinks as he orders a beer and McCoy orders a scotch, but he's not making his way through the crowds again and wandering around for another half-hour just to find another place that won't drive McCoy crazy.
Such a place doesn't exist, he's learned this after four years of being friends with the man. The best he can do is not order some ridiculously fruity drink that will get McCoy ranting about how "those goddamn banana frou-frou drinks don't count as real booze, Jim," so beer it is.
He catches sight of a few of his crewmembers in the crowd, dressed in their civvies and laughing like the party's already started, and he makes a mental note to keep an eye on them in case they become incapacitated later on and need help. It's his job as captain to look after his crew, and he wasn't really planning on getting drunk anyway, so it shouldn't be a problem. To his right, he sees Chekov, Uhura, and Sulu sitting together at a table, drinks half-empty while Sulu makes expansive gestures that have all of them giggling into their drinks. If he listens closely, he can hear their conversation, but he tunes them out in favor of listening to McCoy make snide but funny remarks about all the diseases the crewmembers are going to pick up if they go home with that Altairean or Tellerite or Orion.
"You're such a cranky old man," Kirk tells him in an amused tone of voice, sipping his beer to stop himself from laughing at the disgruntled look on McCoy's face.
"Shut up, infant," McCoy retorts, his hand clenched around his glass like it's going to save him from the crush of people around him, like the glass has a button that McCoy's pressing as hard as he can and it's going to open up a door where he can escape the maddening crowd and his incipient claustrophobia.
Kirk claps his hand on McCoy's nearest shoulder, squeezing lightly to try and ground the man, and maybe to prevent him from making a panicked run back to the ship. "Just relax, Bones. God, you're so tense all the time."
McCoy makes a face. "You'd be tense too you knew just how dangerous the world around you can be."
Kirk groans and resists the urge to slam his face into the bar top. "You're not going to start listing off all the ways we can die if a micro-something does a whatsit on my eyeballs, are you? Because I lived through that speech once already." He levels a glare at McCoy. "And then you threw up on me."
"Good times," McCoy drawls after taking a healthy sip from his glass. "But seriously, Jim, you have no idea. You just run around and let people shoot at you--"
"Let people shoot at me?" Jim asks incredulously.
"--and jump off space drills--"
"--I was there on Pike's order," he says, outraged.
"--and get into stupid bar fights over nothing--"
"Okay, first," and Jim starts counting them off on his fingers, an earnest expression on his face, "I haven't been in a bar fight in months. Second, they're not stupid. Third, and this is important," he says with a sour look in McCoy's direction, "bar fights are never over nothing, all right? They're always over something, even when it seems like they're over nothing."
McCoy snorts into his drink. "Enlighten me, master."
"Girls," Kirk says with mock patience. "Honor, dignity--"
"Not that you ever had any."
"I don't know why I put up with you," Kirk sighs, shoving at McCoy with a wounded air.
"I don't know why I put up with you," McCoy growls. "Between all the away missions that end in phaser burns or kidnappings or enforced marriages, Scotty's transporter mishaps, Spock in general, and all the other insane crap you pull, my medical log is getting weirder and weirder."
Kirk perks up at that. "Yeah?"
McCoy mimes turning on the log recorder. "Dear diary," he says in a falsetto, which makes Kirk snicker, "today I found out that thanks to some ancient alien stone, my captain is now inside a crazy woman's body and Spock almost ripped my head off because of some ancient Vulcan mating ritual that has never been talked about or written about anywhere and may eventually kill him. It was the best day ever!"
Kirk giggles helplessly into his mug, unable to even think about taking a sip because he knows he'll choke on the liquid. "That's so ridiculous, Bones," he finally says when he's gotten a hold of himself.
"Which part?"
"The part where I swap bodies with a woman because of an ancient alien stone." Kirk shakes his head with confidence. "Never gonna happen. It's too crazy."
McCoy sighs. "I don't know if you've realized this, Jim, but all we do on that rust bucket you call a ship is deal with crazy."
"We do not," Kirk says emphatically. "And don't insult my ship. My baby is not a rust bucket," he adds with a scowl.
"Oh, God, you can't be serious."
Kirk grins. "She's sensitive."
McCoy groans again, resting his face in the palm of his hands like if it's going to hide him from Kirk. "If I catch you humping the ship, I'm going to inject you with something that'll give you a limp dick for life," he warns, although his threats seem less credible when they're muffled by his hands and his embarrassment.
Kirk pats his shoulder with a reassuring smile. "No worries, Bones. You won't catch me."
McCoy makes more 'are you fucking kidding me?' noises, but by then, Scotty's stepped into the bar wearing a full kilt and a smile, and Kirk is too busy being torn over whether to laugh or applaud the man for being brave enough to wear it the traditional way (Kirk knows Scotty, he'd wear it properly, which means that Kirk might know what Scotty's genitals look like by the end of the night, quite against his will). He settles for just goggling as Scotty makes his way to the bar and asks for a shot of their finest whiskey.
McCoy takes one look at Scotty and bursts into helpless laughter, rocking forward when Scotty leans in and wraps his arm around McCoy's shoulders with a mock scowl and a growled "Shut it, you bastard." He seems pleased, not pissed, at McCoy's reaction, and Kirk decides it's okay to grin at his Chief Engineer.
"Nice kilt," he says appreciatively, because it really is, and Kirk wonders when he managed to get it on board considering that the last year has been a whirlwind of meetings, mourning, more meetings, and ship repairs before they'd finally launched on their first mission.
"It's been in the family for years," Scotty grins. "Decided to wear it tonight in honor of us being deemed worthy of being in space." He raises his glass to Kirk and salutes
Kirk rolls his eyes at the thought of all the auditor meetings he'd had to sit through just to be able to keep his ship in space. "I'll drink to that." He raises his mug and tips it against Scotty's glass. "So did you find the perfect something to eat?"
Scotty lets out an annoyed "bah" like the planet's personally offended him. "They've got nothing worth eating on this rock," he declares. "I came in here hoping for a bit of bubble-and-squeak."
McCoy looks aghast at the very thought of it. "What the hell is that?"
"A delicacy."
"It sounds like boiled mice," McCoy says disgustedly. "Why can't you Scots eat like normal people?"
Scotty thinks about it for a minute and then shrugs. "Except for haggis, it's really not that bad. I mean, it's not like we're eating rocks and oil like the Hortas, right?"
"Haggis?" Kirk reminds him.
"It's not rocks," Scotty argues, his hands making vigorous motions.
Kirk laughs and holds up his hands in a conciliatory gesture. "Fine, fine, haggis is aces, it's better than rocks. So, is the ship okay?" he asks after he takes a pull of his beer.
Scotty waves him off. "She's fine, Captain. Checked her out myself, from her hull to her ample nacelles." He waggles his eyebrows in innuendo, and McCoy makes grumbling noises about how it's no wonder they both get along so well since they have the same obsession and where the hell's that hypo he'd had on him?
"You had better not be talking about what I think you're talking about, Mr. Scott," a sharp, amused voice comes from somewhere behind Scotty's shoulder.
Scotty yelps a little and swings around, and Kirk sees Uhura slide in the space between them, leaning over the bar to get the bartender's attention before she turns her gaze back to Scotty.
"I meant the ship!" he says indignantly, doing his level best to look innocent, which doesn't quite work with the kilt and his default expression of mischief. Uhura makes a non-committal sound, making Scotty sputter some more, and she smiles to herself as she orders drinks for her table.
Kirk leans forward and uses his best smile on her, which she completely ignores. "And how are you this evening, Nyota?" It's been at least a year, and he still can't keep the glee out of his voice when he uses her first name. Not that he does it often because she always looks at him like she knows where to hit to make it hurt, and Kirk knows better than to antagonize her, but he does bring it up occasionally because she never actually asks him to stop using her name; she just glares at him when he does. It's a tacit agreement between them, he's decided, forged in the heat of battle and in the bonds of camaraderie... of some sort.
"I am fine, Captain," she says pleasantly enough, and her 'Captain' doesn't even sound like 'dumbass' this time, which means that she's in a good mood.
"Do any fun things today?"
She looks at him like she's trying to gauge whether he's messing with her or being genuine, and nods when she decides he's genuinely interested in finding out the answer. "I went shopping with Spock in the morning and then spent the afternoon helping Sulu buy lizards while Chekov complained the whole time."
"Not the whole time," Chekov retorts from behind her, and she and Kirk smile at each other as she steps aside to let Sulu and Chekov into their little circle. "Only when we were in the lizard shop."
"And the pastry shop," Sulu deadpans, grabbing the tall glass of amber liquid the bartender places in front of him while Uhura hands over her ID for the drinks. "And the botanical gardens. And the--"
Chekov scowls. "Okay, fine, most of the time then." His face is still scrunched up in annoyance when Sulu laughs and hands him his drink, both of them clinking glasses together in a salute before knocking them back.
Conversation devolves into a pleasant murmur between all of them for a while, each of them telling the others stories about what they did and what they saw and how crazy is it that they're actually on a real exploring mission now? It isn't until Kirk sees Chekov leaning into Bones' personal space, a dazzled look and a quiet, shy smile on his face, that he realizes Chekov is possibly flirting with McCoy. Chekov is possibly flirting with his best friend. He's almost certain that violates some kind of Starfleet rule or at least the bro code that says everyone hits on the captain first.
He looks over at Uhura, sees her smiling fondly at Chekov, and quietly makes 'look over here' gestures at her until she turns to face him. He glares at her like she's personally responsible for Chekov flirting with Bones (his best friend who is a hundred years older than Chekov, his mind screams, except that it's closer to thirteen and he should stop exaggerating for dramatic effect, and he hates how his inner voice now sounds like Spock), and she shrugs as if to ask what the big deal is. He doesn't need to yell "What do you mean what's the big deal?!" at her because he knows she can read it in his face, so when she shrugs again, Kirk makes a kind of strangled noise that tries to be "He is too young" and "I don't want him to get hurt" and "Bones will hypo him into a coma if he tries anything" all at once.
Uhura doesn't quite laugh, but her mouth twitches into a half-smile like she knows Kirk is being ridiculous and it amuses her, and finally nods. Kirk sighs with relief as she gently, deftly steers Chekov away from McCoy and gets Sulu and Scotty to take him back to their table. Before she follows them, she leans into Kirk's personal space and murmurs, "Just for the record, he has a serious case of hero-worship." She smiles wickedly, and Kirk has a brief moment of jealousy that Spock gets to go home to that smile every night. "He was not flirting with your boyfriend."
Of course her voice rises on "boyfriend" and McCoy's head pops up as he realizes that they're talking about him. "Boyfriend what?" he asks sharply, frowning after her as she laughs and heads back to her table. The only reason Kirk doesn't watch her and her knee-high boots walk back to her seat is because McCoy's right in front of him with the usual aggravated look on his face. "What was that about?" he asks irritatedly, sounding like it's not the first time he's asked that question.
Kirk clears his throat, feeling a little embarrassed that he'd overreacted to such a degree. "Um." He distantly wishes he had a collar that he could fiddle with; it'd at least give him something to do with his hands. "I thought that Chekov was flirting with you?" he answers as meekly as he possibly can.
McCoy's face is a study in astonishment and confusion. "He's seventeen," he says emphatically, as if that explains everything.
Kirk turns up his hands in a 'what are you gonna do' gesture that does nothing to put McCoy at ease. "Well, you are an attractive man, Bones."
McCoy blinks at that. "I haven't drunk enough," he says finally, sounding like he'd been punched one too many times. "Or maybe I drank too much. I forget which one it is I need to do to function properly around you."
"I'm just saying," Kirk argues, his hands moving in expansive gestures with each word. "You've got that whole rugged masculine thing going for you and you're a doctor and you're competent, which some people find hot, and..." He trails off when he sees McCoy stare at him like he's got a third eye growing out of his forehead. "I can see the appeal, is all," he mutters under his breath, downing the rest of his beer in big gulps before his stupid, traitorous mouth can get him into more trouble.
He almost winces at the painfully earnest, gentle look on McCoy's face. "Oh, God," he groans because he knows what's coming.
"Jim," McCoy says softly, like Kirk's fragile and delicate and God, make it stop already. "I don't want you take this the wrong way--"
"Where's Spock to nerve-pinch you when he's needed?" Kirk moans and puts his face in his hands and tries to pretend that he's not here.
"--I just don't think it's a good idea for us to add a sexual element to our relationship--"
"Stop," Kirk pleads because no one should ever sound like Spock when talking about sex in relation to him. "I swear I won't ever jump off of space drills ever again."
"--I don't want to ruin our friendship--"
"I won't get kidnapped or go on dangerous away missions or let super-smart computers on board in case they attempt to kill all the humans and take over the ship--"
"--you're important to me--"
"Please," he begs in earnest, not daring to clap his hand over McCoy's mouth only because he knows Bones will bite down if he does.
McCoy's smile is all teeth and amusement. "Next time, let me handle my own affairs when it comes to teenage engineering geniuses and their possible man-crushes, all right?"
Kirk scowls as he realizes that McCoy was fucking with him. "Dick."
"A rugged, manly one," McCoy chuckles.
Kirk's head sinks down against his chest. "You're never going to let me forget this, are you?"
McCoy looks relaxed for the first time since they got into this nightmare of a club. "Nuh-uh, Jim-boy. I'm going to remind you of this moment for the rest of your life. And," he adds after a moment's thought, "the fantasy planet thing. I'm going to keep bringing that up a lot too."
Kirk's brow furrows in despair. "I can't believe your fantasy was to lounge around in the sun drinking a mint julep while I had to play cabana boy," he grumbles, still outraged over the memory of him in a pair of short shorts, a palm frond, and nothing else.
"You're just mad that Uhura took pictures on the holo-recorder," McCoy hoots with laughter, and Kirk just makes a face at him because he can't argue against that when it's true.
They have a few moments of peaceful silence when the music stops for a brief announcement about someone's freighter being involved in a parking violation and then the din starts up again, making McCoy sigh and Kirk's head throb in pain. Kirk's ready to call it a night and McCoy's been ready to leave since before they got here, so they settle their bar bills and start to leave by silent, mutual accord. Even the pretty Venusian woman who sidles up to McCoy and offers to buy him a drink doesn't slow him down. He just declines with a polite smile and a courteous manner and is up and by Jim's side before she even realizes that he's said no.
"Could've had a good night, Bones." Kirk turns back to get a better look at her and makes a soft, longing noise when he takes in the sight of her all over again. "A really good night," he sighs.
McCoy makes a 'go for it' gesture. "She's all yours."
Kirk shakes his head. "Nah, I'm not in the mood. I'd rather go back to my ship."
"Yours is a love that no one understands," McCoy says blandly, but Kirk can hear the mocking, affectionate tone underneath it. "Least of all me."
Grinning, Kirk slings an arm around McCoy's shoulder and keeps it there as they walk out of the club and make their way back to the Enterprise. "What would I do without you, Bones?"
"Die in a fire?"
"Rhetorical question, asshole," Kirk says huffily, even though it's entirely possible that it would happen just like that. The whole universe is against him, he'd swear to it.
McCoy's got his arm around Kirk's waist like he's anchoring him in case Kirk decides to fight, and lose to, gravity this time. "Uh-huh. Jim, you know I'm not having sex with you, right?"
"I'll try to make it though this cold, cruel world somehow," Kirk says scathingly, making McCoy shake with laughter.
"Just checking," he tells Kirk.
"Did you at least have fun tonight?" Kirk asks plaintively. He'd hate to think he went through all this humiliation and Bones didn't enjoy any of it.
McCoy's smile is all in his eyes and it lights him up like Christmas. "Sweetheart, I was just there to get drunk." He squeezes Kirk affectionately. "The fun part comes when we're back on the ship and I get to hypo you so you don't have a massive hangover tomorrow."
Kirk winces in advance for the pain he knows is going to come. "You're all heart, McCoy."
McCoy's laugh is swallowed up the busy streets, but Kirk can still hear his response ringing in his ears. "And don't you forget it, Jim-boy."
So yesterday, I woke up late, I napped for an hour in the afternoon, and then I went to bed at 9:30 p.m. because I am apparently a little old lady now. That being said, damn, I feel so much better after getting about ten hours of uninterrupted sleep. I'm almost cheerful today!